A Tale of Two Cities

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Therefore, when the breakfast was done and cleared away, and he and the Doctor
were left together, Mr. Lorry said, feelingly:

When they had finished breakfast and the table had been cleared, he and the
doctor were left together. Mr. Lorry said to him emotionally:

“My dear Manette, I am anxious to have your opinion, in confidence, on a very
curious case in which I am deeply interested; that is to say, it is very curious
to me; perhaps, to your better information it may be less so.”

“My dear Dr. Manette, I want to get your opinion on something in secret. There
is a very strange case that I am very interested in. That is, it is strange to
me. Perhaps since you are more knowledgeable it will be
less strange to you.”

Glancing at his hands, which were discoloured by his late work, the Doctor
looked troubled, and listened attentively. He had already glanced at his hands
more than once.

The doctor looked at his hands, which were discolored from his recent
shoemaking. He looked troubled and listened carefully. He had already looked at
his hands more than once.

“Doctor Manette,” said Mr. Lorry, touching him affectionately on the arm, “the
case is the case of a particularly dear friend of mine. Pray give your mind to
it, and advise me well for his sake—and above all, for his daughter’s—his
daughter’s, my dear Manette.”

“Dr. Manette,” said Mr. Lorry, touching him affectionately on the arm. “The
case is an especially close friend of mine. Please give it some thought. For his
sake, and especially for his daughter’s sake, tell me what I can do for him, my
dear Dr. Manette.”

“If I understand,” said the Doctor, in a subdued tone, “some mental
shock—?”

“If I understand correctly,” said the doctor quietly, “it’s about some mental
shock—?”

“Yes!”

“Yes.”

“Be explicit,” said the Doctor. “Spare no detail.”

“Be specific,” said the doctor. “Give me all the details.”

Mr. Lorry saw that they understood one another, and proceeded.

Mr. Lorry saw that the doctor understood him, and he went on.

“My dear Manette, it is the case of an old and a prolonged shock, of great
acuteness and severity to the affections, the feelings, the—the—as you express
it—the mind. The mind. It is the case of a shock under which the sufferer was
borne down, one cannot say for how long, because I believe he cannot calculate
the time himself, and there are no other means of getting at it. It is the case
of a shock from which the sufferer recovered, by a process that he cannot trace
himself—as I once heard him publicly relate in a striking manner. It is the case
of a shock from which he has recovered, so completely, as to be a highly
intelligent man, capable of close application of mind, and great exertion of
body, and of constantly making fresh additions to his stock of knowledge, which
was already very large. But, unfortunately, there has been,” he paused and took
a deep breath—”a slight relapse.”

“My dear Dr. Manette, this person has had a shock that started long ago and
has continued for some time. It is very severe and has greatly affected his
emotions and, as you said, his mind. His mind. This person has suffered from
this shock for a long time. No one can say how long exactly, because the person
himself doesn’t know how long it’s been, and there are no other ways of finding
out. This person has recovered, but he can’t remember how. I once heard him say
this publicly in a memorable way. He has recovered so completely from the shock
that he is capable of difficult work with the mind and body. He is constantly
adding to his stock of knowledge, which was already large to begin with. But
unfortunately there has been—” he paused and took a deep breath “—a slight
relapse.”

The Doctor, in a low voice, asked, “Of how long duration?”

The doctor asked in a low voice, “For how long?”

“Nine days and nights.”

“Nine days and nights.”

“How did it show itself? I infer,” glancing at his hands again, “in the
resumption of some old pursuit connected with the shock?”

“What was the relapse like?” The doctor looked at his hands again. “I’m
guessing he started some old activity that was connected with the shock?”

“That is the fact.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Now, did you ever see him,” asked the Doctor, distinctly and collectedly,
though in the same low voice, “engaged in that pursuit originally?”

“Now, did you ever see him doing that activity when he used to do it before?”
asked the doctor, carefully,

“Once.”

“Once.”

“And when the relapse fell on him, was he in most respects—or in all
respects—as he was then?”

“And when he relapsed, was he in most ways, or in all ways, as he was
then?”

“I think in all respects.”

“I think he was exactly the same.”

“You spoke of his daughter. Does his daughter know of the relapse?”

“You spoke about his daughter. Does his daughter know about his
relapse?”

“No. It has been kept from her, and I hope will always be kept from her. It is
known only to myself, and to one other who may be trusted.”

“No. She has not been told, and I hope she will never be told. Only myself and
one other trustworthy person know about it.”

The Doctor grasped his hand, and murmured, “That was very kind. That was very
thoughtful!” Mr. Lorry grasped his hand in return, and neither of the two spoke
for a little while.

The doctor took Mr. Lorry’s hand and said quietly, “That was very kind and
thoughtful of you.” Mr. Lorry took his hand in return, and neither of them spoke
for a little while.